The Epic of Elynaso
by John Tomorrow
Summary: The Sunwell has fallen. Draglion, General to the Blood Elf army, is on the warpath to find the leader of the Mages, Kilryan. But Kilryan is not an elf to be trifled with...and Draglion can be changed.
1. The Epic begins

**The Epic of Elynaso**

Gold gilded doors shot open as the warrior marched into the mansion, his red and gold plate-armour scuffed and scorched with dirt and ash, his pale face bloodied and scratched, his glowing green eyes burning with rage

Gold gilded doors shot open as the warrior marched into the mansion, his red and gold plate-armour scuffed and scorched with dirt and ash, his pale face bloodied and scratched, his glowing green eyes burning with rage.

The foyer was covered in rubble. A once majestic chandelier, covered in silver plate and encrusted with diamonds, lay destroyed within the center, a butler crushed underneath. A great hole had opened up where the roof had once been, revealing the clear blue sky - and the shouts and screams of the battle outside.

The warrior's hands clenched, his Sin'dorei Warblade gripped tightly within his gauntlet, the undead slime of green blood dripping from it's blunted edge. A servent, his green eyes filled with fear, peeked out from behind the doorway leading into the kitchen on the right. When he saw it was another blood elf, like himself, he breathed a sigh of relief, walking out from behind the door to approach the bloodied warrior. "Thank the Sunwell, we have won!"

His mirth was short lived, however. The warrior's free hand shot out to clench the servent's throat, cutting off the circulation to his brain as well as the oxygen to his lungs as he was lifted off the ground, his legs kicking out beneath him as the warrior's voice boomed out, ehcoing off the ruined walls. "All is lost, you dog! Where is your damned master?!"

A horrible croak sounded from the servent's throat as his fists beat vainly against the gauntlet surrounding his neck, before he threw his right arm out, pointing vigourously to the stairs leading to the first floor, and a pair of shut doors above them.

The warrior threw the servent down and alighted the stairs instantly, his muddied boots leaving dirt-stained imprints on the lush carpet as he took the flight three stairs at a time, coming up to the landing and kicking the door open...

...To reveal a vast library, scrolls and books covering the walls from floor to ceiling, tables and chairs scattered across the floor. The room was immense in size, almost the size of a ballroom, and as the warrior stalked forward he could see a figure talking on the other end of the room.

"...What do you mean corrupted?! That wasn't part of the deal!!" The elf screamed into a cloud of green smoke, a demonic face looming out from within.

_"Did you seriously think I would let you have the Sunwell once i was done decimating your people? Do you take me for a fool? Its power was much more suited to my intentions then yours."_

"I gave you the numbers, the strategies, the paths - and this is how you repay me?!"

The demonic face sneered, yellowed fangs curling sharply from purple lips. _"This is how i repay you. Enjoy the last few moments of your miserable life._"

The man screamed out a bellow of rage, swiping out with his hand to dissapaite the cloud, the gaseous face billowing out to slowly vanish. The elf span on his heel, his eyes aflame with rage - before he saw the warrior.

The elf was dressed like a mage, red silk lined with golden gossimire. A wand, glowing with dark magic, was gripped tightly in his left hand. Dark hair, routinely brushed every night by servent-girls, cascaded down his shoulders like an inky wave, his pointed ears ruining the illusion of darkness framing his facem which was now twisting from utter indignant fury to complete surprise. "D-Draglion?!" He cried, taking a hesitant step back. "W-why are you here? Is the battle won?"

"It seems you already know the answer, Kilryan!!" Draglion screamed, stalking forward to upturn the table before him, the candlabar and the books surrounding it flying off as the wood splintered under it's own weight. "How long have you been in leauge with the Burning Legion?!"

Kilryan's surprise turned to simmering anger, a touch of what he had been feeling before. "You're nothing but a grunt, Draglion, a mere soldier! You have no idea what this power _feels_ like!"

"Power?!" Draglion roared, his path causing him to smash his Warblade into another table, this one splitting straight down the middle, its contents tipping into the centre of the split before exploding outward as Draglion's boot sent the two halves of the table spinning away from each other. "You decimated our people, our city, our _life - _for _power?!_"

The warrior could no longer contain himself. He erupted from the spot, his muddied boots tearing the carpet up as he raced forward, his sword poised to spear deep into the mage's twisted heart - before Kilryan pointed his wand at him, the sudden burst of magical energy stopping his relentless charge and propelling him back through the air several meters, crashing into the floor and sliding across the carpet.

"The general of the Blood Elf army..." Kilryan scoffed as Draglion pushed himself doggedly to his feet. "...You're nothing but a joke. _I _knew this, and contacted the Burning Legion. I _knew_ you'd fail to protect the Sunwell, and tried to save it for our people..."

_"For yourself!!"_ Draglion roared, erupting from the spot once more, his gore-dripping sword held high - as Kilryan waved his hand to the left, the warrior suddenly flung through the air into the side of the room, slamming into a bookshelve and decimating it, dusty tomes and freshly-written scrolls alike raining down upon him as he hit the ground, becoming buried within the avalanche of knowledge.

Kilryan stepped forward slowly, his wand held high, pointed at the pile of books and scrolls - then jumped back in fright as the mound erupted, the plate-covered warrior leaping high into the air, his sword lifted above his head as he bore down upon the mage, swinging the sword down with all his might as the mage threw up his hands...

...And let them drop, letting out a small sigh of releif.

The blunt Warblade, it's dull edge nicked and worn, small cracks showing within the finish beneath the undead gore, hung rigid only mere centimeters from his face. Draglion also hung rigidly within the air, his face contorted into a powerful grimace, his teeth bared as his jaw grit with the sheer power of the swing - frozen solid, like he was encased within invisible ice.

Kilryan stepped back and began to walk around the frozen warrior, suspended within the air as if held by invisible string. The mage began to tug on his beard thoughtfully, his green eyes smoky with thought. "A brainless whirlwind of destruction you are...but you would not be here without reason. You beat back the Scourge, eventually...although judging by your messy appearance and numerous wounds, it took all you had. Indeed, all you had and more. And seeing the Sunwell decimated before you...the first thing in your mind would be to find a way to recover it."

Kilryan stepped under the dull blade to put his face mere inches from Draglion's, the warrior's green eyes burning with unquenchable fury. "...So you rode to the one mage who you'd think could get the job done. The one mage who was still alive, safe within his mansion, away from the frontlines."

The mage cocked his head to one side. "...Obviously you wouldn't have thought of this yourself. Someone would have voiced this, and you being you, decided to save the day and race off before any serious, edjucated discussion was voiced...too bad for you. If you had waited only a few more minutes, I would've been prepared to receive you." Kilryan stooped to step back out of Draglion's way, walking around him to the desk at the end of the room, where he had been standing before the warrior's dramatic entrance.

"Unfortunately, this presents me with a problem." He said as he dug through the piles of papers on the desk. "On the one hand, you _are_ one of the leading generals of the army - so having your dead corpse within my halls would arise some rather penetrating questions about my own nature that I...simply _cannot _be bothered answering."

"But on the other hand, you saw something that has put me in a rather embarrising predicament...one that, if you divulged your information to your collegues, would most certainly pertain me to being killed very irrevocably."

He finally withdrew a scroll from the messiness, slowly unwinding it's binding as he sashayed back to the floating, immovable warrior. "It is a ghastly predicament, isn't it?" He asked Draglion, who could say nothing in reply. "Yes it is, yes it is..."

Unfurling the scroll, he looked over the words written within it's pages. "...Although you'll never remember this, i feel i must tell you - this is a very powerful, very potent spell, one of my own design, in fact. It is designed to completely and utterly obliterate a person from the world, its history, even from time itself - but not kill them. You see, everybody would remember a part of you if i just killed you and hid you away - and there is a slim chance that it might come back to me. So, instead of killing you, i'm just going to make everybody else forget about you - including yourself." He cleared his throat haughtily as he unfurled the scroll a little more. "Its all very complicated. You probably wouldn't understand."

Draglion's teeth began to grind as he felt his vocal chords loosen, his body beginning to feel the pull of gravity once more, millimeter by millimeter. "B..st..rd...i'l...k..ll...ou..."

Kilryan patted Draglion reassuringly on his shoulderplate, grimacing at the blood and sweat that got caked on his palm before rubbing it off on Draglion's cape. "Dont worry too much. I'll make sure you have a wonderful place here, in my mansion, serving me, night and day, without question. Probably for the rest of your immortal life, once i figure out a way to live without the Sunwell. Now then..."

Kilryan raised his hand and began to wave it, his fingers curling and uncurling, dark magic beginning to slowly seep out from within the palm, and as it began to envelope Draglion, Kilryan's melodious voice seeping into his ears as he began to sound the incantation, his one last thought was of finding a way to come back to murder this son-of-a-bitch...

The spell complete, Kilryan had what was left of his manservents remove Draglion's armour from his limp body, still suspended within the air. The manservents didn't question Kilryan, nor why a strange man had suddenly appeared out of nowhere within the room dressed in a general's armour - but they knew better then to think for themselves. Once the armour and sword were removed from the elf and placed neatly to one side, Kilryan dismissed them all, before letting Draglion fall to the floor with a thump.

From the window Kilryan was standing at, he could see down the long thoroughfare to the mighty gates of Silvermoon - and the trickles of men slowly beginning to return from the battle. What had once been an immense force was now reduced to no more then several hundred men, rag tag as they were. "A useless attempt...we should have simply folded over and surrendered...alas, such is life." He turned, his hands still clasped tightly to each other behind his back, and walked down to the naked elf lying on the floor before him. "And now to decide your life...hmmm..."

He crouched down beside the supine Draglion. He was a man of power, that much was for certain - although he wasn't as big as a Tauren or some of the Human warriors, he certainly held immense strength within those shoulders, chest and arms. His face, somewhat handsome, was still curled in a grimace from the spell. Kilryan brushed his hand through Draglion's sweat-soaked blond hair, much like a child pet a kitten. "...Perhaps a little drop of intelligence...a smatter of gullibility...tone down the anger, of course..."

As he spoke his hand stroking Draglion's hair glowed an incendecent green as he fixed the warrior's mind to his own liking. "And a name...nothing like the warrior Draglion Warrunner...perhaps something more elegant. Elegant...Elysano. Elysano Lightstrider. Yes. That will be a perfect name..."


	2. The New Beginning

**The Epic of Elynaso**

-

"EYLNASOOOO!!"

The blond-haired elf's head suddenly left the pillow, his drool pooling into the imprint of his face in the cotton. He was splayed haphazardly on his belly within his cot, his left leg hanging out over the side, his right hand brushing against the cold stone as his arm draped lazingly over the other side.

"M-master!?" The man cried, rolling to the left to meet the floor with a thump and a grunt.

One of the servent girls tutted as she sat up in her cot, rubbing her eyes and brushing her eyebrows straight so they stuck right out either side of her head. "Better move it Eyln, you know it'll be something serious when he has that tone..."

But Eyln was already half out the door, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull on his right boot, his left arm sticking out of the bottom of his jerkin, his pointy hair only barely sticking out of the neck-hole as he tripped over a loose cobble with a cry and slammed into the floor.

He didn't like that the servent's quarters were within the basement of the mansion. You had to sleep in freezing cold stone rooms, with only the torch-lamps hooked to the walls for warmth, on hay-filled cots with lumpy pillows and threadbare blankets, half chewed to oblivion by moths. The Master's voice was piped down into the quarters by brass tubing that snaked it's way from his study to exit out in large trumpets situated in the corners of the rooms. Since he never left the study except to sleep in the room adjacent, the servents were always kept constantly on their toes to do his nails, brush his hair, fix him supper, bring him fresh clothes, and anything else he ordered them to do.

But, for some reason, the Master seemed to have an exception for Elynaso. Always calling on him first, and berating him when he was either late or unkempt. The other servants didn't mind. They didn't care what Eyln had to do - as long as they didn't have to get involved.

Eylnaso stumbled out of the doorway behind the great stairs and shuffled into the foyer, one eye stuck to the landing above him as he pulled his shirt down neatly, brushing out any creases. He'd learned to keep a weary eye about him whilst wandering the house - sometimes the Master liked to call on him and then surprise him when he least suspected, usually by turning him into a sheep or a toad if he didn't look presentable.

Alighting the stairs, he quickly did a mental check on his presentation.

Drool caked around mouth - rubbed off.

Shirt tucked in and pants on the right way - tick.

Boots on and laced - well, his pants went over his bootlaces anyways, so tick again.

As he pushed open the doors to his Master's study, he couldn't help but think there was something nagging his mind, like there was something dangling out of the corners of his eyes that flicked out of the way as he tried to see it. Whatever it was, he didn't like it, because it normally resulted in him being transmogrified into something horrible for half the day. Or until some priest took pity on him outside. And Blood Elf priests weren't really big on pity.

Walking into the study was always a big thrill to Elynaso. Something about the stacks and stacks of books...the knowledge contained within the walls...it just made the blood run faster in his veins.

There was also the trophies from the Master's fight against the Scourge.

Glass cases, the edges gilded with gleaming gold and jewels, sat in the middle of the room, between all the tables and chairs and heaps of books and scrolls. Within the first case was the Master's suit of armour, scratched and bloodied still from his fight on the frontlines.

Within the other, just behind the case with the suit of armour, was the Sin'dorei Warblade.

Eyln's eyes always affixed themselves to it whenever he entered the room. He couldn't help but risk punishment for it. The cracked blade, stained with the blood of a million Scourge, enticed his gaze at every moment of every second he was in the room.

Which was why he bumped into the large Blood Elf in the suit of armour examining the weapon as well. His stride had been so hurried, yet his gaze to the weapon so great, that poor Elyn rebounded off the large elf, falling to the floor with a grunt.

The larger elf glared down at Elynaso as he peered back up to him. This elf was old – possibly one of the first, the lines of age creeping into the corners of his face, his dirt-brown hair framed by flecks of white within the temples. He wore thick plate armour, his shoulder-guards wickedly sharp, great twirling patterns etched into the thick mithril. It looked like it would weight a ton. The larger elf wore it like it was his skin. A massive broadsword was strapped to his back, the thick hilt protruding from his shoulder, the heavy slab of metal almost dragging its tip on the ground.

As Eyln sat in awe before the warrior, a familiar hand grasped him by the hair and pulled hard, Eyln crying out in pain as he was forced to his feet. His Master stood behind him, his green eyes awash with fury. "By all the Arcane powers, Eylnaso, keep your wits about you!" He spat, walking around him to look at him from the front. "And take care of your appearance before my guests!!"

Elynaso, still reeling from being picked up by his hair, suddenly realized what was wrong with his appearance – as the Master grabbed his eyebrows and yanked them out to either side of his head, straightening the haphazard directions they had been pointing before so they sat normally. Tears welled in his eyes as the Master let him go, and he fought the urge to cower, standing up straight with his arms tight by his sides, setting his jaw and only allowing it to quiver a little.

"This is him?" The armour-clad elf asked, his tone dubious.

"You asked me if I had a slave called Eylnaso, I give you Elynaso." The Master replied with venom in his voice, walking away from the display cases to return to his desk, seating himself behind it. "I have complied with your request. Now please kindly…"

His voice trailed off as he realized that the armour-clad Blood Elf had stepped forward, looking at Elyn's face. Elyn could see the Master fuming behind the warrior's head, and tried desperately not to cry. _A toad…no, not a toad, probably a pig or a boar, something that gets whipped and pushed around and shoved into mud…_

"What are you afraid of, boy?" The old elf asked him, his face suddenly in Elynaso's, cutting off the view to his Master. Elyn could see the older elf's features more clearly now – his face was not just lined with age, but also with scars, hundreds of them, scattered about his face like someone had sneezed them onto him.

"N-nothing…" Eyln haltingly replied.

The warrior smirked then, turning to look back to the Master. "You've really broken him down. Its quite pathetic."

"What I do with my slaves is my business. Now…"

"Not when it becomes Council business." The warrior said quickly, cutting off the Master's words succinctly and with perfect practice. "I cant work with puppets."

_Wha…what is…?_ Elynaso's mind was spinning. What was he talking about?

"Then don't take him! I'm sure there are hundreds more candidates who would be more then willing to…"

"Even fought a skeleton before, boy?" The warrior interrupted again, looking back to Elyn as he spoke.

The Master's fist slammed into his desk then, scattering a pile of scrolls as he stood up, his voice a resounding boom. "How _dare_ you show such _insolence_?! After all I've done, all I did, for our _people_, for this _city_, and you come in here and treat me with _utter_ _disrespect_…"

"I treat you as you treat others, no more no less!" The older elf suddenly roared, spinning away from Elynaso to point a finger to his Master. "Be thankful I do only that!"

The two elves locked eyes, the Master's hands balled tightly at his sides as he fought to contain his anger – before he sat down in his chair sullenly, twisting it around to look out of the massive stained window, down to the city below.

Elynaso could feel the anger radiating from the older elf as he turned back to Elyn, who really really _really_ wished he was somewhere else. "Answer the question boy!!" He shouted, poking the finger he'd pointed to his Master into his shoulder, causing him to wince as he spoke.

"…My Master told me to go to the Ghostlands, to retrieve something from a village…on the journey back I had to cross the Scar, and was accosted by several skeletons. Then…"

"Then what, boy?"

Elyn's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke. "…And then I returned home."

A look of disgust formented on the older elf's face as he looked down upon Elynaso, who looked down at his unlaced boots, trying to avoid the unbreakable gaze.

"I think wrong, boy." The old man spat. "The caravan you travelled with reported that you slew all four ghouls with only a rock and a broom-handle."

"…I cannot remember, sir."

The warrior let out a cry of despair, throwing his hands in the air as he turned and walked over to the desk, placing his fists upon it as he looked at the back of the Master's chair. "By the Light, you've seriously messed with this young elf's mind, haven't you? You sick bastard."

Only the Master's voice came from the unmoving seat, cold like ice, like a tomb. "I took him as I got him. He's a slow boy, shocking memory, barely worth the bread I toss him."

"Then why fight to keep him?!" The warrior roared, throwing his hand out to point at Elynaso. "Why try to keep one half-wit when you have dozens more slaves that are more then capable of picking up his slack."

There was a very heavy, very labourous sigh from the chair. "…Because his has a strong back and does what he's told with no fuss…and I'm…_fond…_of him."

"Fond?! Fond?!" The old elf cried. "You treat him like something you scrape off your shoes when you enter your home!"

The voice was now toned down, measured, like a teacher having to explain a problem to his student again for the hundredth time. "I told you. What I do with my slaves is…"

"Well, not anymore it's not." The old man growled, standing up to his full height. "You may have been present during the Sunwell's destruction, and you may have been instrumental in our people's wielding of Arcane magic, but this is too much. I'm taking the boy off your hands, and I'm reporting this to the Council."

The chair span suddenly, the Master's hands full of dark magic as he snarled at the older warrior, throwing his hands out to launch the Shadowy power –

Which simply rebounded off a brilliant shining bubble which sprang forth from nowhere within the warrior, sparkles of light like trickling tinsel falling gracefully down the outsides. The Master's reaction, much to Elynaso's surprised, was not one of horror or surprise, but of utter loathing and complete contempt. "By all the gods…" The Master breathed. "…Just _look_ at you."

The older elf smirked behind his sparkling shield. "I know. It makes you sick. But people will come around. The Blood Elves will never be caught unawares by the Scourge again – and this time, we'll have an army of Holy warriors to throw at them."

He then turned and walked away from the desk, the Master standing to scream at his back. "You think the Light will stop them?! We are damned, you old goat, thrown from the Light and damned for all eternity, and all you're going to end up doing is destroying what little is left of your soul when you let that Light into you!"

Grasping Elynaso's arm, the old man spoke gruffly. "Do you have anything precious or valuable you wish to take with you?"

Elyn's head was spinning. He had no idea what was going on. "Y-yes…they're downstairs…"

"Forget about them. You've just been conscripted into the Blood Knights, and all that is valuable now is the death of the Scourge and the glory of the Blood Elves. Is that clear?"

"Do you hear me, Elynaso?! Whats left of your soul will shrivel and die if he teaches you to wield the Light! Listen to nothing he says! I command you to listen to nothing he says!!" The Master shrieked, foaming at the mouth as Elynaso was pulled towards the door.

- - -

The next few months flew past like a blur for Elyn.

He was thrown onto a horse with the old warrior, who was a Grand Master of the Sacred Order of the Blood Knights. The Grand Master explained to Elyn as they rode that the Blood Elves, in their brief alliance with the Humans, had managed to learn how to warp and bend the powers of the Light to their will, using the Blood Elve's own unique magic-weilding abilities. This gave any skilled Blood Knight a great advantage against the undead, demonic Scourge, allowing them to possess powers that could wipe out entire companies of the Scourge. "With the Blood Knights, we will never fear the Scourge, or any undead threat, ever again." The Grand Master had concluded.

"But what my Master said…is it true? Will the Light burn my soul?" Elyn had asked, only to be met with mocking laughter.

"Does sunlight burn your skin?! Of course, if you had been staked out in it for several days, butt-naked with nary a shade to be seen! But then, doesn't fire burn if wielded improperly? Doesn't ice frost you to the bone, doesn't wind blow you off the cliff, doesn't water fill your lungs and drown you, if you have never learned to understand how they work? _Everything_ takes practice, young Elynaso. I'm sure your precious Master carries many scars from his own magical works that have gone awry due to misunderstanding of their power."

Elyn had kept quiet after that, the Grand Master's words ringing in his mind as they entered the training barracks.

Life within the barracks was not dissimilar to life within the mansion, however. Elynaso had to keep his appearance proper at all times – however, this time it meant keeping his mail clean and rust free, his weapons sharpened and oiled, his equipment fresh and ready. He was rigorously trained, forced to run obstacle courses, dodge incoming missiles, square off against ferocious sparring partners.

Each obstacle Elynaso slammed into, each missle hitting its target, each partner leaving Elynaso in a bloody mess within the training circle…before he finally found his stead. Soon he was leaping obstacles with practiced ease, dodging or deflecting missiles with reckless abandonment, and destroying any opponent that faced him, whether with his hands and feet, spear, polearm, shortsword or broadsword.

"You're a natural fighter, Elyn." The Grand Master had commented after watching Elynaso defeat an opponent several times his size with some viciously placed blows. "Its like you know these moves instinctually, like they were second nature – the descriptions of your battle with the skeletons were true after all."

Elyn had only nodded, sweat dripping from his brow, a dark stain forming around the neck of his leather jerkin. "Sir, if I may be so bold…when can I return to the mansion?"

The Grand Master had spat on the ground then, a dark look on his wise face. "Best stay away from that place, Elynaso. It holds nothing but grief and misery for you, in your past and your present. Your future is with the Light, and the Blood Knights."

"Sir…the mansion was all I knew. I am attached to it, honorbound."

"Your Master beat you almost daily, left you malnourished and turned you into all manner of creature if you even had so much as a hair out of place! This is all coming so naturally to you now, you've progressing so far, do not let his grip tighten around you once more!"

Elyn had bowed his head then, nodding in understanding, before walking away to resume his training.

Several days later, the Grand Master had received reports that Elynaso had gone missing within the night, stealing away like a guilty thief.

- - -

"KILRYAAAAN!!"

The Grand Master had kicked open the doors to the mansion, a servant running at him, dagger in hand – before being cut in twain by his massive broadsword, his head and torso split straight down the middle, splitting apart like a ripe melon to fall to the floor.

The other servants began to slink out of the shadowy corners of the mansion. Its interior was dark, haunting, like something out of a cheap horror novel, and as the Grand Master looked into the servant's eyes he could see something desperate dwelling within them.

"…The magic…the magiiiic…." One wheezed, his hands gripping the knife's hilt tightly as he ran towards him – to be slapped aside by a mighty fist, the Grand Master's gauntlet smashing into the servant's cheek so hard it caused his head to spin on it's neck, snapping it instantly.

"By all that is Holy…" The Grand Master breathed. None of the Blood Elves that stood before him looked healthy. Their bodies were gaunt, their faces a grey pallor, their normally bright green eyes now sunken into a horrible swampish blue. _None_ of them had been drawing Arcane Magic from the new wells the Council had provided.

"The Light does not belong here!" A voice suddenly shouted from above, causing the Grand Master to look up – to see Kilryan looked down upon him from the top of the stairwell, the doors to his study flung wide open, an eerie purple light framing his body. "Leave me and my servants now! You've caused much damage as it is."

"You rotten bastard!!" The Grand Master spat, hefting the massive weapon to wave it before him, holding the gaunt sickly elves at bay. "Look at what you've done to your own kin!"

"I told you! What I do with my servants…is my business."

The walls seemed to tremble as Kilryan turned and walked back into the study, wincing as the Grand Master's bellows. "Dear me…the oaf has clearly become deranged. I told you what would happen once the Light take ahold of you, Elynaso…"

He walked further into the study, coming up to his desk – and the elf splayed out before it, lying in a pool of his own blood.

Elyn simply lay there, feeling the pain wracking his body, and wondering why he had come back. What the Grand Master had said was true. As soon as he had set foot on the mansion, the apparitions that used to be his friends swarmed him, beating his body, smashing his head against the smooth tiled floors, pummeling him until he no longer had the strength to even move…then they had brought him to the study, to the Master himself.

Who had crouched down before him, placed a hand on his brow, and whispered soothing words.

"I had no choice, Elynaso. You showed severe insubordination, and a simple morphing spell and taking some dignity would not set you straight. Yes, you left me with no choice at all. But you finally came back. I waited a long time for you. But in this…I knew you would not disappoint."

Now Elyn lay on the floor, surrounded by his own blood, caked in it, with his Master by his side, and wondering why he came back. He had felt no remorse when leaving the place. He'd felt no elation when he'd returned. Only a constant dread filled him, and a gnawing suspicion which seemed to eat away at his heart. A suspicion that he could not follow, could not reason in his mind, could not twist so as to make clear. All he knew was that his Master had needed him, and all the time he had spent away had only made that need grow larger.

When the Grand Master finally set foot in the study, he was covered in blood.

Kilryan placed a hand over his mouth in mock shock. "By the Sunwell itself, look at you man! Have you gone crazy? Don't you see what you've done to your own _kin_?!" He cackled then, an evil laugh that sent shudders up Elyn's spine.

"You're a demon! Possessed by wicked forces! I feel it now!!" The Grand Master roared as he began to run forward, smashing chairs aside, hewing through thick wooden tables with his mighty sword like they were made of cardboard, his footsteps thumping into the carpeted floor with each giant stride as he drew his sword up and…

"No!"

The Grand Master blinked, halting his stride by leaning back, putting the full force of his weight against his momentum, his boots skidding and ripping the carpet off the floor as he ground to a halt, his sword protruding forward –

To clash against Elynaso's own blade.

Elyn's own strangled cry had been what had halted the mighty Blood Elf, his body seeming to move of its own accord to put itself before his Master, putting his own life on the line for him. The Grand Master's face, covered in bloody gore, was twisted in horror at the dull determination in Elynaso's own beaten visage. "Boy…Elyn…you don't own your mind." The Grand Master said.

"Go away!" Elyn replied, his arms shaking with the effort to hold up his own short broadsword, pressing it weakly against his Grand Master's own mighty blade.

"Elyn! I'm telling you to step down!" The Grand Master muttered sternly.

"L-leave here!!

"Elyn! I'm ordering you to step down!" The Grand Master shouted, causing the Blood Knight Acolyte to cringe – but remain standing, unwavering.

"A devoted follower, this one." Kilryan said with a laugh, a short bark that seemed to have some flame behind it.

"Demonic hellspawn!!" The Grand Master thundered, forcing Elyn's blade aside with his own and lashing out with the back of his hand, slapping Elyn hard in the face and causing him to crash to the ground as the old Blood Knight stepped over him to approach the Mage's desk. Lifting his sword high, the blade flashing with a brilliant white light that caused Kilryan to shriek and cower behind the mahogany desk…

Before the Grand Master let out an choked cry, the mighty broadsword flailing to the left to smash into the desk, missing Kilryan by the hair of a whisker as his arm went down to grasp at his groin.

As he'd stepped over Elyn, the younger elf had rolled with the blow to come to his back, pulling his sword up to stab it between his armoured codpiece and leg-bracers, the sharp tip lancing through the mail beneath to pierce and severe the femoral artery.

Gritting his teeth to the pain, blood squirting out of the wound with each pump of his heart, the Grand Master stepped awkwardly back, Elynaso's blade slipping out of the wound, his double-handed grip slipping to the floor as he looked up to watch the Grand Master lift his broadsword up high –

And send it crashing down onto Elynaso's wrists, the wide tip digging deep into the hardwood floor and cutting both of Elynaso's hands off at the wrists.

Elynaso cried out in horror as he clutched his arms to his chest, his hands laid out before him, still clutching his sword. The Grand Master groaned in agony and anguish, regretting what he had done even as he'd done it. "Be…be strong, Elyn…" He gasped as he wrenched the mighty broadsword from it's hole in the floor, the tip wet with Elyn's blood. "…I shall defeat this…_evil_…and then we shall tend…to our wounds…together."

Kilryan was standing behind the smashed desk, cowering behind his large leather-bound chair. His wand had been thrown clear, his mind still reeling from the burst of light that had engulfed him, and as the blood-soaked Blood Knight drew closer, he could only grip the chair tightly in protest, shrieking in horror as the old elf ripped it from his gasp to fling it out into the back of the massive room. "Elynaso! Elynaso!! _I command you to save me!!_"

"He's not in your stead anymore!" The Grand Master shouted down to Kilryan as he lifted his sword high, the broadsword once more shining with a silver light. "He is an elf of free will again! Forever and ever mo_ah_…"

But he did not finish the sentence. His words were blown from his chest as a heavy force shoved into his back, sending him off balance and reeling forward –

To smash through the stain glass window, shattering glass and droplets of blood filling the sky as he flew through the air, tumbling and tumbling – to hit the cobbles with a sickening crack which seemed to echo all throughout the street. His neck twisted in a way not natural, blood seeping from his groin, his exposed flesh covered in shards of glass.

Elyn was weeping as he looked down to the street below and to his Grand Master, lying haphazardly, his arms and legs splayed like a puppet with it's strings cut. He did not know why he had done what he had done, where he had suddenly gotten the burst of strength to charge to his feet and shoulder his mentor out of the window.

He just knew that he had done it. And now there was no way to take it back.

He sank to his knees and leant his head on the windowsill, not feeling the pain of the shards of glass cutting into his forehead. Tears streamed from his eyes as his weeping wracked his body…before he felt a hand upon his shoulder.

"Elynaso."

Forcing himself to stop cry, Elyn, still sniffling and with tears streaking his battered and bruised, bloodied face, looked up to see his Master standing before him with a wide smile on his face. "Elynaso…I have never been more proud of you then this moment. And to pay back your debt to me, I will help you."

His face beginning to turn pale, Elyn looked down to see his Master grasping his hands…even though Elyn had his arms tucked under his armpits. He held them out and began to wail – before he suddenly felt his fingers moving again, feeling his palms and his knuckles and his fingernails. He watched as his Master pressed the severed hands back onto his wrists and the skin melded back onto itself, the torn muscle and shattered bone reconnecting, joining as one once more.

"M-master…Master…" Elynaso whispered dully, the tears streaming down his face now in muted joy. The blood-loss was incredible, his usually healthy complexion now reduced to a sheet-white pallor.

"Shhh…I will make you feel better Elynaso. More better then you have ever felt." His Master whispered to Elyn, as he crouched before him and reached into the folds of his robe – to pull out a small leather pouch. Pulling the string, he opened the pouch and reached within – to pull out a small leaf. "Open your mouth now, Elynaso." He cooed softly.

But Elyn's eyes were drooping, his head lolling gently side by side, his arms limp by his sides. His heart beat weakly now, running low on haemoglobin.

The Master reached out with his free hand to grip Elynaso's chin, turning it up roughly to force Elynaso to listen. "Elynaso, I _command you _to_ open. Your. Mouth._"

Almost as if on cue, Elynaso's jaw sprang open like a spring-wired trap, and the Master gently placed the leaf into his mouth before closing it gently. Then, with a gentle nudge, Elynaso fell to the floor with a thunk, his eyes closed, his body limp.

"Sleep, my little puppet…sleep, and let the Bloodthistle work it's way into your mind…" Kilryan whispered, standing and looking out at the small crowd forming around the Grand Master's corpse, listening as the call for the Watch was made. "Sleep…and let my chain wrap around you tighter with each drug-induced dream…sleep, for now you will never have another peaceful waking moment, your mind shattering with each leaf you take…sleep. And let your torture continue."

He then clasped his hands behind his back and smiled.

Smiled down at the corpse below.

Down at the city only just beginning to wake.

Down at the frightened masses below.

"Another glorious day in my city." Kilryan whispered to no-one as the sun's light peeked into the city's walls…

((Hope you've enjoyed so far!!))


	3. Trouble in Paradise

**The Epic of Elynaso**

-

Within the Blood Knight barracks was a hive of activity.

Acolytes ran within the massive courtyard, puffing and blowing their air out of their lungs, dressed head-to-toe in full mail armour, sweat glistening off their brows, dripping from their hair and long eyebrows. After they had run another thirty laps they would retire to their bunkrooms and spend the next two hours greasing their mail under strict supervision by a Knight, who would impart wisdom and dole out punishment for the dull-witted of the day.

A group of students within the centre of the courtyard had gathered together tightly, forming a complete circle around a fence. The circular fence held two warriors, both dressed head-to-toe in steel armour, their broadswords clashing loudly as they struck, parried, and stuck again.

The taller one, a male elf, his ears and eyebrows jutting haphazardly from the helm which covered his entire head, leapt back from the smaller elf, this one female, the woman's broadsword gripped tightly within her hands. The male's sword hit the ground heavily behind him, the sharp blade digging into the soft earth as green eyes flamed from within the helm's eye-socket, fixated on his target.

The female rushed forward, her own broadsword dragging behind her to her right, and as she approached the male she hefted it up with a grunt, her legs pinned as her hips twisted, her entire upper body swinging with the blow as the sword flew up – to be deflected up wildly, the male having twisted his own body to pull the sword through the dirt and directly up into the air, the blades smashing together in a shower of sparks as the male's upward, one-handed slice was caught by his other hand gripping the hilt tightly as it rose above his head, his entire torso swinging down as he forced his arms to fight against the heavy sword's upper momentum –

To have his sword be struck aside by his opponent, the female recovered with a devil's speed to swing her own blade back across and slam it into the torn dirt. The male grunted as his sword wedged into the ground, refusing to be budged – and not witnessing the spectacle until the last second.

Her opponant's sword trapped, the female warrior stepped lithely _onto_ the large blade, running up it in three quick steps to leap, flicking her legs up and around her torso in a circular motion to swipe the back of her heel against the male's head, blowing his helmet off and causing him to smash his face into the ground!

Landing on his back, the female elf lightly jumped off him and paced back slowly as she watched him shift himself from his belly to his elbows.

Elynaso, his face caked with dirt, was wincing as he lifted a hand to feel the back of his head, almost as if to see whether it was still there or not. The blow had been delivered with such force that his vision was blurred, his hand before him shifting from two hands to three. He shook his head violently, as if to shake out the stars dancing around his eyes, and picked himself up slowly, using his sword as a prop as he did.

"You're swordsmanship is superb, Elyn." His female opponent called, unclipping the strap to her own helmet to pull it off, a shock of white hair falling down around her shoulders as her beautiful Blood Elf face was revealed to the audience around them. A wry smile sat on her lips. "But you should never rely fully on them."

"I know…" Elynaso replied as he gripped his broadsword with both hands and, with a grunt, wrenched it out of the ground – to reveal the buried chunk of wood it had gotten stuck to. "I must be prepared for close-combat. I know how to fight." Placing the tip of his sword to the ground, he lashed out with his boot to kick off the offending piece of wood –

Before side-stepping to the left, the white-haired woman having rushed forward with her sword held high, bringing it down right where his head should have been. As he sidestepped he turned his body, shifting to face her, an annoyed expression on his face. "Hey! I wasn't ready yet!!"

"In real battle you wont have time to prepa_augh._" The woman replied haughtily, turning to look up at him, twisting her body for another swing of her sword – before Elynaso's right hook came sailing in, slamming straight into her nose with such force that she lost grip on her sword and fell flat onto the floor, knocked out in an instant, her sentence not even finished.

Hefting his sword up high, Elynaso let out a mighty cry – before bringing the weapon down, cloving it deep into her chest, a mighty burst of blood signaling her death. She awoke instantly, letting out a choking cry as blood spurted from her mouth – before she lay still. Elynaso placed his heel on her shoulder and wrenched the sword from her chest, lifting it high before letting it swing down, the blood flicking off the edge of the blade to leave a crescent trail within the soft dirt.

"Excellent Elynaso." A grey-haired Blood Elf within the crowd called, dressed in white robes and holding a book. "Now for the next part."

Elyn nodded to him before turning back to the woman's deceased body. Stabbing his sword into the ground beside him, he closed his eyes and held his hands out before him. Slowly but surely, bursts of white light flowed from his palms, the light growing in strength as he concentrated, before he released the energy into the body before him.

As the light left him and entered the woman, her wounds began to close slowly – organs rejoined, bones connected back together, muscles knitted once more before finally the skin closed over them all. All that was left of the fatal wound was the blood caked around where it had once been.

As soon as the skin closed over her wounds the woman opened her eyes and let out a shuddering cry, a ragged breath that rattled in her throat. Elynaso knelt down beside her and placed his arms around her, helping her sit up slowly, allowing her to catch her breath.

As she felt her senses return to normal she reached out to feel where Elynaso's sword had entered her, placing her hand into the mail armour to feel the soft, smooth skin beneath. "Thank the Light that that didn't scar, Elyn, or I would've had to kick your ass." She muttered up to him, Elyn simply grinning down at her, beaming at her.

"I love you too, Skimala."

Skimala grunted and placed her hand onto his face, shoving him and pushing him off her at the same time to sprawl onto the ground, the haughty Blood Elf woman pushing herself to her feet. She glared a death stare to the crowd around the sparring pit, her green eyes shooting white-hot flames of anger. "Whats the matter?! Someone else wanna have a go?! Get outta here!!"

She threw her arms out to wave them off, and the crowd dissipated quickly, like a stiff breeze blows away smoke. Nobody wanted to be in Skimala's bad books. She could make a rabid Ghostclaw look like a playful kitten.

Elynaso was the only one who ever seemed to escape her wrath…sometimes. She watched him as he picked himself up, still grinning. "What are you smiling at, you moron?" She growled, causing him to hold his hands up in defense.

"Hey, whoa, I'm just glad its over." He joked. "Fighting with you is like sticking your head into a crocolisk's mouth."

"You saying I'm old and scaly, you little twerp?!"

"Old and wha? _Argh_!"

The book-toting Blood Elf – the only one left from the retreating crowd – watched on as Skimala leapt onto Elynaso's back as he tried to flee and beat his head repeatedly into the ground, gripping his ears in white-knuckled fury. "Ah, younglings…" The old elf said to himself as he watched the woman grab Elynaso's hair and pull really hard, Elyn's arms flailing around uselessly beneath her.

- - -

Later, after healing himself and changing out of his armour, Elyn walked across the barracks to a small tent next to the Master's quarters. Lifting the flap of the tent, Elynaso peered in. "You wanted to see me, Gillarn?"

The old elf sat up in his chair, having been writing something within his book. The tent wasn't very large, but it was spacious. A small bookshelf crammed with books sat before the wicker cot, blankets strewn about lazily. On the other side of the pole holding the tent up was a small table, a candle dripping wax over one corner flaring brilliantly, several bottles full of mysterious potions in the other.

Gillarn closed the book he'd been writing in, many pages sticking out of the tome, having been stuffed into it or almost torn out by old age, and set down his quill before turning to Elynaso. "Ah, hello boy. Sit down, sit down…" He said, motioning to the cot on the other side of the tent.

Elyn nodded obediently, stepping into the tent to sit down on the cot. The wicker sank as he sat, his bottom falling closer and closer towards the ground – before finally resting on it. His knees were near his ears now, but he politely kept his eyes focused on the old man.

Gillarn leant forward with a small grunt to pick up a little cat that had been maneuvering around the legs of his chair, rubbing itself against his legs. He placed the tabby in it's lap, patting its head gently. It promptly fell asleep. "Do you know why I asked to see you, young man?" Gilliarn asked Elynaso, a long, bushy eyebrow raising as he asked the question.

Elynaso looked down at his knees – not having to try very hard, seeing as they were almost in his eye-sockets – and thought for a moment before shaking his head. "…Not really, sir."

"Hmph…" Gillarn grunted, nodding slowly. "…Well, I think your martial skill and magical prowess has progressed significantly enough for you to begin your pilgrimage."

Elynaso blinked. "Wha – pilgrimage?"

"Yes. All holy warriors must take a pilgrimage, Elyn."

"But…I thought only the Knights could take pilgrimages."

"Yes…well…" Gillarn sighed slowly. "…After the death of the Grand Master last year, the heads of the Sacred Order have concluded that pilgrimages will be taken by Acolytes from now on. Once they had gotten out into the world, helped some people, killed a few zombies, they can come back to finish their training and receive their Knighthood.

Elynaso spread his hands, making it look like his knees had just sprouted fingers. "I don't know what to sat, sir…thankyou?"

"Yes, well…I wouldn't be thanking me yet." Gillarn replied, looking down at his tabby and playing with it's ears gently.

"…What do you mean, sir?"

Gillarn sighed again, letting the breath out heavily, like it was made of stone. "…The heads of the Order have been concerned about you for some time, Elyn. Although your skills as a warrior are excellent, and you have managed to Bend the Light fairly well…your constant disappearances have raised questions about you."

Elyn remained silent, his face crestfallen as he looked at his knees once more. "What…what kind of questions?" He asked quietly.

"Why do you return to Kilryan the Mage's mansion every time you leave the barracks?"

Elyn hesitated before replying. "He…he is my Master. I go to see if he needs me to do anything for him."

"And if he asked you to compromise the Order, would you?"

"No! Of course not!" Was the instant reply. "The Order has been a boon on my life."

"So you are simply fulfilling an obligation? A servant serving his master?" Gillarn asked.

"Yes." Elynaso replied confidently.

Gillarn sighed once more. "Elyn…what's the mansion like?"

"Oh, it's the most beautiful place in all of Silvermoon." Elynaso said wistfully, his eyes dulling over as his mind wandered. "Gold covers everything….marble floors…beautiful cream walls…rugs of thick pile embroidered by the best elves in the city…jewel encrusted goblets and…"

"Elyn…" Gillarn interrupted, his voice full of sadness. "…Kilryan Mansion is derelict. Its been that way ever since the Sunwell was destroyed."

Elynaso blinked hard, his voice full of confusion. "What? No, I was there last week, my Master treated me to a sip of his wine. I specifically remember the elegance of the cup I held and wondering how much it cost…"

"Elyn, please believe me. Kilryan lives there _by_ _himself_. The place is in shambles, I've seen it. Broken windows, torn wallpaper, shattered floors. The Council is beginning to think that Kilryan has lost his mind. They think he had something to do with the Grand Master's murder."

But Elynaso wasn't listening. He was squinting, as if trying to listen to something very far away. "No…he gave me a sip…"

"Elyn…I _command_ you to stand up."

Elyn looked at Gillarn for a moment, bemused, before pushing himself out of the cot, struggling for a moment before finally getting to his feet.

"I _command_ you to stand on one foot."

Elyn raised one foot slowly, balancing on his other deftly.

"Cluck like a chicken." Gillarn said.

"Why would I do that?" Elyn asked with a laugh.

"I _command_ you to cluck like a chicken."

"B-KAWK!" Elyn suddenly crowed.

Gillarn sat back in his chair heavily, the sleeping cat looking up at Elyn, angry at having been awoken from it's slumber so rudely. The old elf lifted his hand to his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose roughly. "…I knew I sensed something around you. It was just…so hard to find." Gillarn muttered, half to himself, half to Elyn, who looked down at his leg, perplexed at why he would be standing on one foot.

"Wha – whats happening to me?"

"…Someone has put some type of spell on you. A command spell." Gillarn replied, twisting in his seat to open the tome on his table, flicking through the dry pages within. The cat tumbled off his lap as he twisted and, greatly annoyed now, sauntered over to Elynaso and began to rub on his balancing foot "We first noticed it when a trainer commanded you to run around the barracks, and we found you later that night still running. Apparently if someone commands you to do something, you'll do it, regardless of what it is."

"…That's absurd!" Elyn cried, looking down at his raised foot as he tried to put it back down on the ground, growing concerned that it wasn't doing as it was told, the cat rubbing it's head against his heel. "I mean, I think I'd remember if someone had done something like that to me!"

"Not if they commanded you to forget." Gillarn replied as he lifted a hand to point his palm to Elynaso, his other hand trailing across a line of script within the tome, the old elf mouthing the words silently as he held his hand out to Elyn…

…Before Elyn finally stamped his foot down onto the ground, squashing the cat's tail as he did, the feline emitting a mighty yowl before bolting for the tent flap.

"There we go." Gillarn said with a smile, snapping his book shut. "That's one little problem done."

Elynaso looked down at himself. He didn't feel any different. "…Did it work?"

Gillarn rolled his eyes. "Elyn, please, don't doubt my power."

"…Sorry sir."

"Myes, well, this only solves one problem." Gillarn said quietly, looking up at the younger elf. "…We still have an issue about why you continue to return to Kilryan mansion."

Elynaso shrugged. "Well…obviously he commanded me to."

Gillarn shook his head sadly, a look of disappointment on his face. "No Elyn. You go back for this."

Reaching into the folds of his robe, he pulled out a small pouch and tossed it to Elyn's feet, the pouch hitting the dusty floor with a flop. Elyn's eyes grew dark as he recognized it, and the items that had spilled out of the top. "…I thought I had hidden it better."

"This is a warrior's training ground, son. When the blood runs high in battle, it seeks vices when its not busy with the sword." Gillarn said with a small smile. "Do not worry. I see that you have taken great care with your addiction, and gone to great lengths to keep it a secret. If I hadn't known you so well, I'd probably have never guessed…"

His voice trailed off as he watched Elyn. Not just him, but his eyes. Their emerald gaze was firmly locked onto one of the leaves, unwavering, unclenching.

"Elyn…the leaves do nothing for you." Gillarn whispered, clenching his hands together. "They give you a slight boost in your perception and some abilities, but their after-effects are not worth it. Vomiting, nausea, hallucination, but to name a few…"

"That's just it, Gillarn…" Elynaso whispered, his voice hoarse. "…When I take them…they make me feel like…_someone else._ I have visions of…someone. Surrounded." His voice slowly grew hollow, his eyes blank, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Dead flesh everywhere. I cut and I smash and I destroy all the maggot-infested rot I see but there's no end. Demonic fire burns me, rusty blades cut me deep, and I keep swinging my sword. I kill everything I see, blood elf and undead alike, my sword drinks up their blood and it fills me with _magma! It courses in my veins, through my brain, forcing my muscles to keep moving, keep swinging, I'm using my gushing blood to drown my enemies and I'm drowning too, drowning in the bodies around me, crushing me under their weight, and still I swing my –"_

Gillran's hand slapped his face hard, the strike ringing in Elynaso's mind. He realized he had been shouting. Sweat covered his brow, glistening as it rolled down his cheeks.

Gillran's eyes were wide as he dropped his hand down. Turning on his heel, he walked back to his seat and sat down heavily. The old elf was breathing hard, sweat beaded on his brow. "Elyn…_what was that?_"

Elynaso was frightened. It had never come on that strong. "…Its what I see…when I take them. Its what I see…"

"Do you know what that is? What you are describing?"

"…Yes."

"Really?"

Elyn frowned, confused. "…I think. Do you mean…the Sunwell…or…?"

Gillran's eyes went wide. "Elynaso…you were describing what _Kilryan_ told the Council when he had to report about what happened to the Sunwell. He told of being surrounded by undead, killing indiscriminately, being crushed under a wave of bodies…but…you told it with such…_vigor._

His eyes narrowed. "_His_ tale was…flat. Rehearsed. Perhaps even…staged?"

"That's…not possible. There's records…documents of him being there. Witnesses…he has relics, souvenirs…he'll tell anyone who listens, shows all the guests…"

"Don't you think that sounds less like evidence and more like…overcompensation?"

"What are you trying to say, Gillarn?!" Elynaso shouted, tears welling in his eyes. "Are you trying to say he…he's…"

"Taken over your life? Maybe.." Gillarn said quietly

Elynaso was gripping his hair, his breathing shallow, his heart racing. _What was going on?!_ His mind screamed. His entire life was shaking on it's foundations, like a massive earthquake had rocked his reality. His view of Gillarn was skewed, wavering as colors meshed together. His head felt like something was pounding upon it, _boom boom boom, _and it took him a second to realize that it was his heart.

"I…I must…" Elynaso gasped through gritted teeth, his body tensing, his muscles locking up all at once…before he suddenly relaxed, letting out a long slow breath before he finished his sentence. "…Go."

"To him?" Gillarn asked as Elynaso stooped to pick up the bag of Bloodthistle, crounching to pick up the individual leaves and petals that had fallen from the bag. When Elyn didn't reply, Gillarn's foot kicked out from beneath his robe to knock the bag from his hand, causing Elyn to look up to him, anger in his eyes.

"I will have to tell the Council about this, Elyn, though it greives me to do so." Gillarn said quietly. "You will be stripped of your Acolyte rank and be cast from the Order. They will assume you've been telling vital secrets to Kilryan, and even if it was against your will, they wont allow you to remain."

Elyn didn't answer as he stood and walked over to the corner of the tent, crouching to pick up the bag of leaves.

"You wont be able to continue your training, Elyn. Do you understand?!" Gillarn said forcefully.

"I understand, Teacher." Elyn muttered quietly, stuffing the bag into his belt and moving towards the tent flap – to be stopped by Gillarn's hand on his chest, holding him back.

"My son…" The old elf whispered. "…I'm _begging_ you now. _Don't go back there._"

Elyn looked into the old elf's eyes, and with a voice as cold as icy tundra and as low as a rumble thunder, spoke with a tenuous tenacity.

"Where else can I go?"

Then he shoved the old man's arm away from him and pulled the flap aside, walking out into the training grounds.

- - -

He was returning to the sleeping quarters when someone grabbed him from behind, looping one arm around his left shoulder as a forearm was pressed against the back of his neck, forcing him to arch forward painfully. Skimala cackled as she applied the hold, pushing him down forcefully. "Not so funny now, huh?!"

Then she was on the floor in a daze. Elynaso had reached up with his free hand and, grabbing the arm around his shoulder, twisted his body forward even more, hefting the woman over his head and onto the ground with a thump. He then walked on, regardless of her condition.

Confused only momentarily, Skimala jumped to her feet and rushed Elynaso from behind, arms outstretched to tackle him – only to barely miss, Elyn sliding to one side after hearing her get up. He was mounting the steps of the sleeping quarters as she regained her footing and chased after him. "Hey! Whats your damn problem huh?" She shouted as he opened the door.

He span on his heel then, grabbing the edge of her mail jerkin and forcefully shaking it, making her brain rattle. "Just _leave it_." He shouted back before letting her go and walking into the building.

She followed him in then. The quarters were atypical of an army – basic wooden beds with thick sheets and stiff pillows, strongboxes of the soldier's equipment at the base of each bed. They were alone as she approached him. He was crouching before his strongbox, opening it as she grabbed his shoulder and twirled him around, pinning him to the box –

As she pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes as she kissed him, breathing in the smell of his skin and hair –

Before he pushed her away roughly, causing her to stumble back. Instead of sounding hurt, however, she sounded more surprised. She wiped her lips with her fingertips, kissing them clean as she spoke. "So…you're in a mood, huh?"

Elyn didn't reply as he pulled out a travel bag and began to pack it.

"Oh my…you got your status upgraded didn't you?" She said haughtily. She had been here almost twice as long as him, yet she still hadn't surpassed her Acolyte status. Something about her anger blocking her magic…

"No. I've been thrown out." Elyn replied as he placed the bag on the bed and pulled off his shirt, stuffing it into the bag as well.

"…Thrown out?" She repeated breathlessly.

He shot a look over his shoulder at her for a moment, before looking back down to his armour. "…You sound like you care."

She cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. " O-of course not. You were just a fling anyways. I'll find myself another Acolyte with some real potential."

"That's good to know." He replied, pulling on his breastplate and strapping it tightly to his chest.

She was silent for a moment, leaning against a bed, simply watching him adorn his armour quietly. She watched as he took up his long broadsword from beneath his bed, strapping the massive weapon to his back, before tying on his boots and pushing himself to his feet, shouldering his pack and turning to go – to have her left hand placed on the cool bronze armour. "…Where will you go?"

He looked down at the hand, his face blank. "I…I haven't made up my mind yet."

Her hand pressed itself against the bronze more, as if trying to absorb the coolness from the metal, the fingers and palm pressed flat against it…before she withdrew it. "…If you still wish to continue your training, you can….come back to me. And I'll train you. It wont be cheap but. You'll have to pay me. A lot."

Elynaso looked up then, looking down into her harsh green eyes and seeing something within them…but he couldn't tell what it was. "…Thanks."

Skimala turned then, waving her hand at him dismissively. "Whatever. Get out of her before I throw you out, reject." She growled – as she clutched her left hand, feeling the coolness still on her skin as she kicked open the door and walked out into the training centre…

- - -

A whole year passed.

Elyn considered returning to the mansion several times, even to the point of walking to the street that it was on…but he always balked at the last minute. He wished he could do something about the feeling in the bottom of his heart… the want to set fire to the world and watch it burn. He thought it was because of what Kilryan had done to him, but as he thought about it it was like something even more deeper was pushing him, prodding him, forcing him to go back…

…But he didn't.

He travelled instead, walking great distances and meeting many people. He was apprehensive about the Undercity when he first stepped into it – being surrounded by so many Undead made something within him gnaw at his stomach like a rabid dog, but eventually he forced the feeling to go. His trip to Ogrimmar was an eventful one – it was there that he was taught the riddle of steel, shown how to create sparks from metal, how to turn rock into something workable. Although his senses were assailed continuously by the dirty Orcs surrounding him, having spent most of his life in the fairly sterile Silvermoon City, he grew accustomed to them, even admired them.

He returned to Silvermoon every now and then. Selling the armour he made gave him a little coin in which to continue his training. Although there was little Skimala could still teach him in the ways of combat, she had pointed him to other Blood Knights who had little time on their hands and hole-filled pockets. His meager earnings were snapped up by him, and they trained him, even though mocking him at the same time, wondering why he still bothered if he had been cast out.

To be honest, he didn't know why he bothered. Perhaps it was something to do. Armour making, whilst enjoyable in a physical sense, did not fulfill him. There was something about roaming the lands, killing any demon or undead Scourge in his path, that filled him with…something.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

But soon his skill with the blacksmith's hammer grew weary. The materials he gathered was not enough to make the fine equipment he wished to make. And without the armour, his money ran dry.

Now he passed through the Ghostlands, walking within the Scar.

The time outside the Order had hardened him. His eyes were a little more serious, his fists gripped confidently around his blade, even his skin was a little darker. He looked disheveled, however. The cost of repairing his gear had recently grown too dear – now his mail rusted, many links missing, the breastplate dented and scratched through use. His broadsword, once sharp and brilliant in it's polish, was now dull and grey, having slaughtered many a zombie.

Swinging it out, the blade connected with a zombie's torso, the arm flying out into the air as the body crumpled under the weight of the blade. Kicking the body over, Elynaso jammed the point of the sword into it's brain-case, killing it completely, before standing upright once more, lifting the great sword to rest it on his shoulder.

The Scar. Where the Scourge had burned the earth under their march. For some reason he never strayed far from it whenever he came to Silvermoon, constantly drawn to it. Perhaps to hone his demon-slaying skills, perhaps to fulfill the gnawing in his heart…perhaps because he was jealous of the undead. How dare they cling to life when he refuses to throw it away.

He grunted as he looked over to a small knoll within the dead earth. From within, buried within the ash and bone, was a rich orange vein of ore. Moving over to it, he stabbed his sword into the ground beside the vein and pulled out his hand-pick from it's sling by his side. "Okay…just hold out for a little while…" He whispered to himself as he lifted the pickaxe high –

To smash it down upon the ore, the tip of the axe spiraling off into the distance before him to embed into the head of some random skeleton.

He looked at the broken pickaxe in his hands and tried not to groan. How could he afford a new one now?

He tried not to stamp his foot. He felt like life was playing a grand trick on him, and was going to make his life a living hell until someone took it from him, or he gussied up the cowardice to do the job himself. And he was too annoyingly proud to do that.

He heard a grunt along with a flash of magic, and turned to look over the knoll to see a mage running over to a slightly smoldering, completely dead corpse.

He watched as the woman, slight in build – obviously a mage – roll the corpse over with some difficulty and, with a modicum of aplomb, dug her hands deep into the corpse's back to rip out a piece of it's spine.

Elynaso made a face as he watched the woman tap the piece of vertebrae against the palm of her hand, as if trying to tap a lolly out of it's roll. What was she looking for? Ah, perhaps it was that Undead alchemist in Tranquillian who had chased him for some Spinal Dust. Typical undead, always wanting something bizarre to go along with their bizarre life…

Suddenly he blinked, his daydreaming cut short. Behind the woman, who was still intently searching the corpse's spine for some of the elusive Spinal Dust, three Dreadbone Sentinels, their plate armor pitted and scored and black with rust, leered menacingly behind the oblivious mage as they shambled towards her.

Quickly he stood, wrenching the sword from the ground as he took off, running over the knoll and deeper down into the Scar. His right hand dragging his sword behind him, his left hand hastily scribbling arcane symbols into the air as he Blessed himself. Immediately he felt his muscles tighten, growing stronger, his armour and sword growing lighter as he felt Might flow through his body. The mage looked up, seeing him bearing down on her, shrieked out in alarm as he leapt, his hand still moving as he drew a Seal in the air –

Before he slammed his sword down into the first Dreadbone, the undead monster crumbling as light poured from Elynaso's blade. Lifting his left hand up, he deftly smashed aside a sword-swipe from the second Dreadbone, before hefting his sword around with his right hand, smashing it straight off it's feet and over the mage, who had ducks down close to the ground.

Elynaso roared in pain as the Sentinel behind him cleaved it's sword into his left shoulder, cutting straight through his armor to slice deep into his flesh. Blood welled from around the wound as he raised his left hand to grasp the rusted blade, gritting his teeth as he twisted his torso around, ripping the sword from the rotting corpse's hold before continuing his spin, slashing out with his blunt sword to cut the monster head off, the skull spinning off into the distance as the body fell back lifelessly into the ash.

The young paladin turned to look down at the mage, who was busy frying the head off the monster who had sailed over her head. He bit down a growl and held his wound, grimacing as he felt the waves of pain. He felt like screaming at her. Didn't she know that the undead were _everywhere_ within the Scar?

He tore the sword from his shoulder and felt the blood seeping from the wound. He looked down at it, inspecting it. He had been lucky – the blade had almost severed his arm. The pain was excruciating – but he had been taught in the Order to deal with the pain. Placing his free hand over the wound, he Purified it with some Light magic, before shooting a burst of light into it, the light melding the hewn flesh and bone back together almost instantly.

Taking his hand away, he saw that there was still a mild flesh wound underneath his leather jerkin. _Bugger._ He thought. _I'm running low on mana…_

"_Draglion!"_

He blinked, raising his hand to his head. The Bloodthistle he'd taken this morning was still playing tricks on his mind. Lately the dreams of fighting the Scourge had given way. No longer was Elynaso fighting all alone – he had a female elf by his side, a mage of some kind, her hair as dark as night…

"You're a Blood Knight aren't you?" The woman before him suddenly said, and he looked up from his daydreaming to look at her.

He stared at her for a moment before looking down at his wound again. "…No. Not…"

"_Killian!!"_

He placed his hand on his head, his mind spinning. In his daydreaming he'd never heard himself speak, except to grunt and scream. Now he was screaming a woman's name, his voice, normally full of battle-lust, now full of terror…

"That's not my name." The mage before him said flatly. "My names…"

He wasn't listening as he half-turned from her, his eyes wide as his brain turned into overdrive. His body stayed put, but his consciousness was lifted from the Scar to Silvermoon City, and the SunWell within...flaring brilliantly before being snuffed out like a candle flame…

"Hey! Are you okay?" The mage asked, causing him to look up, terror in his eyes. "You're breathing funny and you're sweating…"

Elynaso lifted his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow and realized it was covered in blood. It took him a moment to realize that it was his own blood, not from the hundreds of undead Scrourge surrounding them, washing over them like a frothing torrent of death. _Focus Elyn! _He thought to himself, squeezing his eyes shut – and opening them…

…To reveal the Scar around him, and a very worried, but very strange and tangible, mage looking up at him.

"I'm…I'm fine. Guess I lost a bit more blood then I thought…" Elynaso muttered, half-turning once more. "The Scar is a dangerous place. You'd best watch your back from now on. Next time I wont be here to help you."

As he began to move away, the mage rose to her feet. "W-wait! Whats your name?"

He paused then. His back was to her. He was caked in dirt, blood and sweat. His armour was dented and rusted, his hair long and matted, his sword dull and pitted. He turned his head slightly, not even looking over his shoulder.

"…I don't know."

And then set off again.

The woman in his vision had been the selling point. Something about her demanded his attention, demanded answers…and now he was going to get those answers.

From the one person who knew…


End file.
